Blinded by the light
by PseudonymsR4Squares
Summary: With the loss of his sight, Harry is gifted with the clarity only the blind can know. He sees Dumbledore for what he truly is, a manipulative old man, and ponders over where a life of darkness will lead him. Eventual Slash-BEING REWRITTEN!
1. Prologue

A/N: This is incredibly spur of the moment, however I am currently working on Chapter one. I actually have a long-term plan for this, despite all the one shot ideas that flitted through my mind. Any advice, comments, etc would be greatly appreciated. I got really tied of the "Harry is a veela/vampire/magical creature. His mate is "insert character name here". If he does not mate with them before "insert amount of time" he will go insane/ die." This, therefore, while I have thought of the vampire scenario, will contain none of the things above apart from romance.

Sorry for the rant

p.s. a beta would be greatly appreciated.

Blinded by the Light

Prologue

As the darkness crept in all sides of his ever-decreasing vision, he knew he would never be able to win this war. More importantly, he wondered of what use he would be to the wizards if he could no longer see his opponent.

He realized his staying at the Dursley's had never had anything to do with his safety, and everything to do with power. If there was one thing he had always known it was that he would not be safe with these…creatures.

Muggles feared that which they did not know, but his fat fetid uncle feared anything that threatened his view of "normal". To him one must be a middle class, white, male married to a woman younger than he by one to five years. The wife simply **must **stay at home and raise any horrible children the union managed to produce. The children must be of average intelligence receiving B to D marks, and other than that little was required of them.

If there was one other thing he was sure of, it was that he was anything but normal.

For the first eleven years of his life, he mourned over his abnormality, his _freakishness_.

Now however, he embraced it. It was his power, his very strangeness that had kept him alive, kept him fighting for something other than his own life.

But with this betrayal, he knew, there was no way he could keep fighting for the lives of the innocent. It was time to grow up.

After all, if he could no longer see the light, why should anyone else?


	2. The Rays of the Sun

A/n: Apparently, this story was very well received, so here is chapter 2 as a present to all those who added me as a favorite and reviewed. Note: Everyone always make Vernon or Dudley the evil "crazy" one. I wanted to try something a bit different.

He had spent his summer much the same as all his others. His trunk taken and locked away, with him locked away following. He was allowed to keep his wand simply because his relatives feared what would happen if they tried to take it.

They knew he would not be able to use it, and so did he. It was irrational, but he still feared his family. He knew what it was like to starve, to be beaten for the smallest of existing fractions, and even those that did not exist. He knew that a life full of boredom locked in a room was far better than a life spent having the "freakishness" being beat out of him.

His favorite moments were spent looking out of the window, now unblocked by brick ("What would the neighbor's think Vernon!?"), staring at the rising and falling sun. The rays spoke to him in a way nothing and no one else could. They spoke to him of hope, happiness, and a life worth living. Things he had only dreamed about since coming to the wizarding world.

Harry's POV

The darkness littering my thought, as it seems wont to do more and more often, is lifted as Aunt Petunia screams my name in that shrill voice of hers. That voice means business. Why the woman was named after such an open and beautiful flower I will never know.

"HARRY! Get down here and make my poor Diddikins his breakfast!" she shrieked. I'm sure "Diddikins" was wasting his fat arse away sitting at the table playing with some video game I would never be allowed to see, let alone touch.

sigh I just have the worst luck

As lethargic as I was, sleepy is just not enough to describe such a feeling, I stumbled out of bed and stayed in "my room" long enough to put on some trousers and a jumper. It was oddly nippy out for August.

My aunt and uncle were smart enough to leave the door unlocked. It seems that the Order has managed to strike a bit of fear, not respect, into their hearts.

Yawning widely I stepped into the whiter than winter kitchen. Aunt Petunia must have cleaned again.

"Boy, my precious Diddykins wants some Bacon," Petunia baked roughly, "make yourself useful and make him some,"

I set about it knowing any words about Dudley's own uselessness would only serve to make my situation worse. It was best to just go with the flow. After all, I'm tired of fighting and I can't bring myself to give up anything else I love.

"You are burning the Bacon! Idiot, you useless freak! After all the things we do for you and you can't even manage to make bacon?" Petunia shrieked.

In her anger, all I could see was the pale white of her face. The exact opposite of Uncle Vernon, her face mesmerized me. I had managed to save the bacon moments before her fit, dumping the strips onto a plate. The grease, however, was still popping in the skillet.

I realized to late what was happening, so preoccupied by watching Aunt's nostrils flare, imagining her to be a rather malnourished horse. Her hang gripped my arm and I knew. Mere milliseconds later, still in shock, my arm was plunged into the grease.

I screamed. The pain was fierce, though it was no Cruciatius, but the shock of hat had happened needed physical actualization.

The only thing scarier than the abuse I had just suffered was the manic look in my Aunt's eyes. They flitted frantically around the room, anxiously searching for some sign that she would be magically punished. There was none. The deranged look in her eyes magnified.

I had been running, hiding, and fighting all my life. I knew the look of someone who had lost sanity. I just never thought it would grace the eyes of my "normal" family. Petunia was no longer a mother, an aunt, a muggle; she was someone who had lived in fear for 16 years. She was angry.

I saw the pan I had used to fry my cousins breakfast and then…the sun. The pink rays of early morning had faded to reveal blood red stains running across the sky. If those rays would be the last thing I would ever see, I could die happy.

Unfortunately, my death was not in my Aunt's plan. There was something far, far worse.


	3. The Darkness of Death

AN: Seriously people (I'm not going to make that stupid pun for the millionth time), why do I have two reviews and one of them is from someone telling me they are confused!? I do have oodles of alerts (thank you) but no reviews? Please, Please, Please, do not just sign up for an alert and never review, it is incredibly discouraging.

In addition, I could really use a beta. I read over my chapters but I always do it quickly and miss things. Please let me know if you would be interested.

Blinded by the Light Chapter 2

Last time

_I had been running, hiding, and fighting all my life. I knew the look of someone who had lost sanity. I just never thought it would grace the eyes of my "normal" family. Petunia was no longer a mother, an aunt, a muggle; she was someone who had lived in fear for 16 years. She was angry._

_I saw the pan I had used to fry my cousins breakfast and then…the sun. The pink rays of early morning had faded to reveal blood red stains running across the sky. If those rays would be the last thing I would ever see, I could die happy._

_Unfortunately, my death was not in my Aunt's plan. There was something far, far worse._

Now:

**Dudley's POV**

I love Bacon. Mum is making Harry get me some Bacon, I can't wait! He always makes it better than she does; taking care to make sure all the grease is removed from the strips. Perfectly cooked every time.

He's not so bad, I guess. I don't like having a pig tale but I don't think all magic does is hurt people. I saw Harry's face when Hagrid took him away from our house. I didn't understand it then but now I do. He was happy to get away…from us.

I'm an arse, I know I am, but how can I be anything else considering how my parents raised me. Harry is under me, he's not normal. The only thing I don't understand is why, if he can do such amazing things, he is considered under me. Mum and Dad have drilled into my head Harry's freakishness but I wonder…what if magic is just nature's way of natural selection. There aren't as many wizards as normal folk (that I know of) but they've managed to stay hidden for hundreds of years.

Mum is yelling again. I don't understand why she uses that sugary voice with me but as soon as she gets to Harry, her eyes turn cold; her words turn to bitter orders. Harry is part of our family, why does she treat him as if he's a slave?

I can only watch on in shocked disgust as she burns him in the grease used for my bacon. Has she goes entirely mad?! Her eyes fly around the kitchen but I don't know what she's looking for, when she focuses on Harry again there is a strange look in her eyes. She's scaring me. For the first time in all my spoiled sixteen years my mum is not my mum, she's a monster.

There has to be something I can do. Those frea-erm…people that watch him should be around here somewhere.

As I get up from the table silently, I can't help but feel as if I'm already too late. By the time I get back into this house with help, my mum will have done something unforgivable. She can hurt him, but I'll never let her become a murderer.

It's time to turn my back on my family. It's time for me to step up…and help the only person who's ever treated me like a _normal_ person.

**Harry's POV**

Dudley has left. I am alone with Petunia and her insanity. I wonder if my cousin has gone to watch the telly as he often does. I had only been out for a few minutes but when I came to Dudley had left the table (odd since he had not eaten yet) and Petunia had tied my hands together.

It's funny that my life as "The Boy Who Lived" may come to end here, in the home of my "family". The only person to ever survive the killing curse killed by a muggle. Great, just great.

Waiting for the fight? Waiting for the Harry everyone knows and loves to get on his feet and fight with everything he has? It's not going to happen. I'm too tired to defy death; I'm too exhausted to keep stringing fate along.

Petunia seems to have gotten some guts. She's holding a recently sharpened steak knife in one hand, the other balled up tightly against her pathetically thin chest. She's shaking with rage, her eyes glazed, and then…she charges.

I am suddenly reminded of Greek myths and virgin sacrifices. Petunia is the vengeful goddess to my shaking Andromeda (1).

As the knife, and Petunia, slammed into my gut, I felt the burning pain of the knife. It was not the sharpest; it's dullness making the gash more ragged and painful. It was agony. It hurt more than anything I had ever felt before.

Before I was aware of what was happening Aunt Petunia yanked the knife out and drew it sharply across my eye.

'Screaming? Who's screaming?' I wonder hazily.

Suddenly I realize that it's me. That horrible cry, the sobbing, it coming from me.

She drew the knife across my other eye and all I can see is black. I can't see the red of my own blood, or the scarlet of the sky. My sight, which I had never treasured or felt particularly attached to, was gone.

"Mrs. Dursley!?" someone shouted aghast.

I know the voice but I can't seem to put a face it. The darkness in my mind is growing blacker by the second. My mind can no longer process the spells being shouted at my aunt, the sounds of Dudley's shocked gasp at my appearance. I recognize the pull of sleep at my consciousness and then…no pain. There was only light and the voice of my mother.

"Shhh Harry dear, everything will be all right. Go to sleep now." she whispered

I allowed myself to be lulled by that feeling and that voice but I didn't believe the softly spoken lie. My mother was dead and nothing was ever going to be all right again.

After all, the darkness sneered, what does the light side need with a hero who can only see darkness?

(1): Andromeda was a Greek mythological woman who was chained to a rock to be a sacrifice to a sea monster as divine punishment for her mother's bragging. (Directly from Wikipedia)


	4. The Battle is lost

AN: I am incredibly happy with all the reviews and alerts I have received.

**Ellyanah**: Thank you, we will see. I am pretty much making it up as I go and trying to leave as few plot holes in my wake as possible.

**LupinandHarry**: I'm sorry, the "someone" is not Remus. I never read anything about Remus guarding Harry so it doesn't seem very plausible. After a lot of thought, I decided to go with a relatively unknown and unexplored character. Thank you for your thoughts!

**dancingkatz**: Thank you so much for your review! I sent you a message but I'm not sure if you got it. I do still need a beta and I like the way you praise and criticize so if you're up to the job your welcome to it.

**baby dragon**: Thank you, my first reviewer!

**Mikee**: Thank you. I am not offended, I'm sorry my chapters are not longer but to be honest, when I write long chapters I get bored easily, it takes me days sometimes weeks to update, and eventually I abandon the story. I'm taking your wants into consideration with this chapter, thank you for your interest. Don't worry, even old Dumbles won't let Dudley stay with a (n) (attempted) murderer.

**darknessmolded**: Thank you

**dead feather**: Yes, I'm trying to stay away from the typical FF characters and I really like to think Dudley is more than "Harry's abusive cousin".

**mauradersbanana: **woo, here you go!

**Amylion: **Sadly, I have had one offer for a beta who has not gotten back to me yet. I'm sorry if my errors are making this story an less enjoyable for you. Thank you! I think you'll be pleased with the pairing I have selected then : )

In addition, my brothers will be home (from college) until January so my chapters may be uploaded a bit less frequently.

Now, on to the story!

Blinded by the Light Chapter 3

Last time

"_Shhh Harry dear, everything will be all right. Go to sleep now." she whispered _

_I allowed myself to be lulled by that feeling and that voice but I didn't believe the softly spoken lie. My mother was dead and nothing was ever going to be all right again._

_After all, the darkness sneered, what does the light side need with a hero who can only see darkness?_

Now:

The man who had been guarding Harry on Wednesday July 3 was scheduled to be a man named Mundungus "Dung" Fletcher. However, due to various mishaps that had happened while said, "guard" was "on watch", Kingsley Shacklebolt asked if he could switch shifts so that he could "eat a late dinner and avoid Molly's coddling".

The true reason of course is that Kingsley was having a bad feeling. If there was one thing he always trusted, it was his gut. It had never led him astray before and if something bad was bound to happen, there was absolutely no way he was going to leave it up to a screw-up to deal with the fallout.

Even though the Auror trusted his gut feelings, he never expected to find what he would when the large muggle boy told him something was wrong. He never expected to find the savior of the wizarding world so betrayed.

**Dudley's POV **

It took longer than I thought it would to find one of Harry's guards. That's right, I know he has people watching the house. I'd have to be a bloody idiot not to, that pink haired woman is constantly tripping and showing herself.

Running, I have no idea why this guy (Aklebot, Shakeholt, whatever his name is) was at the end of Privet Drive.

He has to be at least 12 feet in front of me but I can still tell he doesn't pause at the door. He slams it open runs inside and then…

"Mrs. Dursley!?" he shouts aghast.

I've finally caught up now, running into the kitchen only to find myself …seeing things. I must be if Harry is on the ground with stab wounds, his eyes sliced and bleeding, practically unconscious. This has to be a dream! My mum…she's never been kind to Harry but this…this is…there's nothing to describe this.

The look in her eyes…

She charges towards the man I brought, and then, suddenly, she is down. Her eyes are wide open, frenzied, but they do not move.

What has she done?

The man gives Harry a long glance. His eyes rove over the pale form, he takes out his wand. A jet of pale green light careens to my cousin and I remember him screaming about green light. I remember all the nightmares he had about "green death".

What have I done? I brought this man here only to have him kill the person I finally tried to save? What have I done?

Harry's still breathing. Thank God! I did the right thing!

What's going to happen to me now? They can't leave Harry or me with mum and dad. They can't send us to Aunt Marge…

"Boy, you have a choice to make. You can stay here with your father or you can come with Harry and me to the wizarding world. Either way you will never see your mother again. I'm an Auror, a bit like your version of the police, and your mum clearly is an unfit guardian," The man said. He had this look on his face like I was…

Like I wasn't my mum. He looked at me like no matter what she or my dad did; I would always be my own person. I would always be free to make my own decisions.

It's time for me to make my own decisions. It's time for me to get away from the prejudices my parents have instilled in me and learn about the things I've always wished I was a part of. It's time for me…

"I'll come with you sir," I whispered.

The man gathered Harry and my mum in his arms, closed his eyes, and we were gone. The only evidence of the atrocities committed in number 4, was a tape left on the counter, and the bloody knife on the floor.

_**Two Days Later**_

"We've done all we can for Mr. Potter but I'm afraid there is nothing we can do about the loss of his eyesight. The best we can hope for is that he will adapt easily and be able to live his life with relatively few modifications," proclaimed Healer Peverell.

At this announcement, Bumble…err Dumbledores' eyes lost their telltale twinkle, Molly Weaslys' own eyes filled with tears, and Kinglsley Shaklebolt allowed himself to feel for the first time in years.

"The war is lost' he thought, 'but perhaps there is still hope for the future"….


	5. Healer Peverell

AN: I know I'm late and I'm sorry! I told you people it would happen! I'm working on a Chemistry project, getting ready for finals, working on Christmas present, etc. It's kinda stressful to worry about my story too but I am determined to get it done.

Thank you reviewers! You have made me incredibly happy and I really appreciate your support and suggestions. I still do not have a beta but I hope you can enjoy the story and ignore the errors.

I will **not** be responding to all my reviewers, it takes up too much room and detracts from the story. I felt bad so this chapter is longer…woohoo!

In addition, I forgot a disclaimer so…I own nothing but the craziness in my head.

Question and Answer time:

Will Dudley be a wizard?

No. No. No. Dudley has never shown any signs of magical ability, it is not plausible that he would suddenly become a wizard.

Will Shaklebolt help Harry? What about Remus and the others?

One thing I do know is that Shaklebolt and Remus will be important to Harry at this difficult time. I've always loved the both of them and they have been very supportive of Harry so…

Surely the war couldn't be over just because of Harry's eyesight…

Never make assumptions. This is fanfiction and if you were blind, your trust utterly betrayed, would you be keen to help the people who ruined your life?

"If you have to hid Harry's eyes do it with a black cloth that wraps around his head"

No. Harry's eyes will not be hidden. To do so would show the world that he was shamed by what happened to them. At the moment and briefly in the future he will e, but Harry is strong and he will beat this. Also, this is **incredibly** cliché.

p.s. the other reason this is soooooo late is that I have the flu. I've had it for about 5 days and I am utterly miserable.

Last time:

"_We've done all we can for Mr. Potter but I'm afraid there is nothing we can do about the loss of his eyesight. The best we can hope for is that he will adapt easily and be able to live his life with relatively few modifications," proclaimed Healer Peverell._

_At this announcement, Bumble…err Dumbledores' eyes lost their telltale twinkle, Molly Weasleys' own eyes filled with tears, and Kinglsley Shaklebolt allowed himself to feel for the first time in years._

"_The war is lost' he thought, 'but perhaps there is still hope for the future"…._

Now:

The sound of anxious whispers filled the blinding whiteness of private room 143 in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The whisperers in question were from Molly Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall.

Frankly, the noise was irritating one Harry Potter and disturbing his (much-needed) rest. After all, it had only been four days since his "accident" and he needed all the (magical healing) sleep he could get.

His nose twitched with the effort he put into not screaming at the faceless noise to shut the ruddy hell up. His body felt like it was burning, his head was pounding, and his eyes…his eyes felt nothing.

It was odd that they were so void of feeling, they did not tingle from the infirmary lights (no doubt that's where he was, he could identify that "overly clean" smell anytime anywhere), and they didn't feel heavy with sleep.

He felt…exhausted. His body felt weak, his head was pounding, it was like he had slept for weeks and, at the same time, he had slept for only a few second.

Sitting up on the hard infirmary bed, he groaned and opened his eyes. Nothing. 'This can't be right' he thought. He blinked his eyes closed and opened them again. Nothing.

This was beginning to worry him. Everything was dark and he knew that everything should be blindingly white. He reached his hand up to his eyes wondering if they had been wrapped so that he would be able to sleep easier.

Nope, no gauze, but wait…there was something on his eyes.

Harry lightly ran his fingers over his unseeing eyes. There were deep scars on both eyes. They didn't feel like normal scars, old and smooth. They felt jagged and new, they **hurt **when he touched them. They hurtall the time now that he was thinking about it.

He was starting to panic. What had happened before he woke up? Where was he? Most importantly, **why couldn't he see?**

He was shaking. As he curled up in fetal position, cradling his face, he cried. He didn't know why but there was something wrong with him. Would his eyesight ever come back?

Suddenly he became aware of hasty footsteps. The clicking of heels on tile was followed by the opening of a door, its soft creak ringing in his overly sensitive ears.

"Mr. Potter," an unfamiliar voice questioned softly, "are you awake?"

"He blearily opened his eyes, forgetting that he would only see darkness. He quickly slammed them closed, tears leaking out of his useless eyes.

"Mr. Potter, I know you're scared but we need to talk about some things. Come on, sit up dear, you've been asleep for three days." the, now identified as female, voice shushed.

He allowed her to pull his body into a sitting position. He was tired, so tired, and all he wanted to do was curl up under the covers and cry. He knew, however, that he needed some answers.

"Who are you?" he whispered gruffly. Days without using his voice had left his throat scratchy, his lips chapped and dry, and his brain slow and lethargic.

"My name is Healer Peverell, I'm the Head Healer for the ER at Saint Mungo's. You were brought here four days ago by Mr. Shaklebolt and your cousin Dudley Dursley. Your aunt…she hurt you Harry. Do you remember?"

Harry's blurry mind supplied fragments of what had happened four days previously. The burn, the stabbing, and then…my eyes. She had cut across my eyes, stealing the only piece of my mother I had left.

"I remember," Harry whispered brokenly, "I remember." Then the tears started pouring out of his dead eyes, made worthless by his family's hate. The emerald reminders forever lost to the world.

Healer Peverell watched on sadly, wondering how something like this could have happened. Everyone in the wizarding world pondered why "The Boy Who Lived" hadn't been placed with a loving wizarding family like the Weasleys' or a politically powerful and kind family such as the Bones'. However, everyone trusted that old fool Dumbledore too much to question his plans for the world's savior.

'Now we are paying for our unwavering trust,' she thought 'but more importantly, Harry is paying for it. This isn't the way his life was supposed to turn out! Lilly was a wonderful mum, working hard to become a healer. James was a little immature but he would have made a great father if he had had more time. They never should have died, but we can't change the past. Harry never should have been placed with those…those…**muggles**!' she thought viciously.

"Harry, it's important that you know that none of this is your fault. Your aunt was very wrong to do that to you, she is very…sick. We need to know if you want to press charges. Mrs. Dursley is already in custody of the muggle police and is going to be on trail for attempted murder. If you want to press charges, the Auror's would gain custody of Mrs. Dursley and she would have a higher chance of going to prison." explained Healer Peverell.

"Would she go to Azkaban?" Harry asked tiredly, his voice tinged with worry.

"I don't know Harry. Since she's a muggle, I doubt they would send her to a wizarding prison but the wizarding world is outraged by what happened. 'The Daily Prophet' has already written a fairly accurate story about the incident and have followed up several times since. If you decide to press charges on your aunt, you would be allowed to choose which reports to let into the trail. You would also be allowed to choose who gets the full story. Because the papers know how important this story is they have only reported the bare facts and little speculation."

"What are you going to do Harry?" Healer Peverell questioned.

"I want to press charges. If she's done this to me, there is no way to know for sure what she has done to other people, other children. I always thought she was a bit batty but I never though…I never thought she was capable of murder. She was always so…normal" Harry commented sadly. His mouth relaxed as he quickly tied. For the amount of time he slept he still felt tired.

"Alright Harry, it's time for you to get some rest. I'll inform the papers that you will be pressing charges and I'll have my assistant contact some lawyers for you. Is there anyone else you want me to tell?" she questioned

"Tell…tell Dudley, my cousin. He has a right to know…what will happen to his mum. She might not have treated me great but…she always loved him. Make sure…he knows that." Harry said as he drifted off to sleep.

"Of course, Harry. Have a good rest dear," Healer Peverell reassured. A single tear rolled off her cheek as she heard him mumble in his sleep. Such a strong boy, so much on his shoulders, it was only a matter of time before he crumbled.

She exited room 143. She closed the door quietly behind her. She went to her office, called her assistant and told her of Harry's decision. She hung up, she sat down in her overly cushy chair, she had a cup of tea and she cried.

She did not cry out of pity, or sadness. She cried because she knew Harry did not need to suffer. She cried because no one had expected this kind of life for the Boy Who Lived.

She cried because for the extremely short time that she had talked to Harry she had found him to be a wonderful boy. A wonderful man. He had never been allowed to be a child but she could see the insecurities in him. His face showed a tiredness she had only seen in the old, his speech was far too mature for his age. On the contrary, his mannerisms were infantile, his gentleness that of a young boy, and his smile…his smile was so much like his mothers.

He would never be the same person he was before. He would never be as brave or as sure of himself, but he would heal. If there was one thing Harry had shown it was resilience.

'He'll get better' she thought, 'I'll to everything in my power to make sure'.

Her eyes glowed furiously as she schemed. That was the only thing it could be called as she used all of her Slytherin intellect to plan ways for Harry to avoid pain, old rivals, and new villains.


	6. The Other Path

A/N I am almost to the point of not being sick anymore so yay! I'm a bit disappointed that Chapter 5 (Healer Peverell) only got 5 reviews but there's nothing I can do. Thank you to those who did review, I'm glad that everyone liked Healer Peverell. To those who had concerns that she may work for Voldemort, she does not. I'm not sure how the trail against Petunia will go; I'm winging it to be honest. However, unlike some stories, she will have fair representation. I don't think its right that in some stories the person on trail has no lawyer and is assumed guilty. Also, a very intuitive question is "Will Harry get a pair of magical eyes like Moody?"

I don't think he will. That is a very interesting possibility but I think it would only distract Harry. I want him to learn to use his "disability" to his advantage. Giving him magical eyes would give him a crutch, something to lean on, and I want him to become stronger on his own.

**Important notice: I was asked about Harry's age and realized I had not addressed this before. This story takes place during the summer after Harry's sixth year making him 16 going on 17. However, Harry has a lot on his shoulders and has been forced to grow up rather fast. Keep that in mind.**

Moving on…**goddamn writer's block**. As always, silly rabbits this story is not for kids!

Last time:

_He would never be the same person he was before. He would never be as brave or as sure of himself, but he would heal. If there was one thing Harry had shown it was resilience._

'_He'll get better' she thought, 'I'll to everything in my power to make sure'._

_Her eyes glowed furiously as she schemed. That was the only thing it could be called as she used all of her Slytherin intellect to plan ways for Harry to avoid pain, old rivals, and new villains._

Now:

It had been a slow year for Dallas Kilian. Since his last case, Churchill vs. Millary, has lost his client five million galleons…needless to say it had been a slow year.

It was not his fault that the evidence was stacked against Silas Churchill. It most certainly was not his fault that Churchill had decided to confess that he had "had relations" with his wife's sisters.

Sigh. If only he could have one great case, a case that was not about money or divorce. Even in he wizarding world divorce seemed to be popular and, as with the muggle world, full of gold diggers.

It was then that he heard a tapping on his chamber door. The tap was obviously from an owl but who would contact him, failure that he was?

The letter was…light blue. A matter of grave importance.

Healer Pevelrell's assistant didn't really know what to do. First, she had to inform _The Daily Prophet_ that Mr. Potter (insert dreamy sigh here) would be pressing charges. She was supposed to contact papers, lawyers, friends, and family.

Where to start, where to start?

Her first thought, was of famous lawyer Henry Armstrong. In the past two years, he had risen from a nobody to the most prominent law wizard in the magical world. He had won his last five cases, all of them earning millions of galleons in compensation.

Her second thought, however, was of her cousin Dallas Kilian. His story was the opposite of Henry Armstrong's. He had lost his last case and was now unable to rise to his former glory. One case was all it took to drag his reputation through the dirt and now…now could be his big chance.

Katie Bell set about contacting the two law wizards. She also contacted several mediocre lawyers, but in her heart, she knew. She knew that it would come down to the wizard on top and… the wizard who had fallen from grace.

_In a manor, off the coast of Greece, on the small "uninhabited" island of Atokos_

"It has been long since we last met…Peter Pettigrew," hissed Voldemort.

This…this…worm…lay at his feet, kissing the hem of his robes. Disgusting. Did the slimy bastard actually thing he was fit to bow at the feet of such a great dark wizard?!

**He** had been the one to destroy his adversary, Grindlewald, during this century's first war. **He** had been the one to form an entire army of wizards to do his bidding. **He** had been the one…who was destroyed by a baby who could not speak, let alone cast magic.

Clearly, the world was against him.

Or rather…Dumbledore's world was against him.

Dumbledore, that barmy old jackass who put on the façade of caring old "grandfather" when really all the people in the world were his to use. It was as if Dumbledore was an old woman at the loom and the entire world his string.

Dumbledore took the credit for Tom's defeat of Grindlewald. Dumbledore forced him to grow up in an orphanage, become a weapon, and **kill**, just so that Dumbledore could be seen as "the savior".

No more. Harry Potter was this decades Tom Riddle. Potter was being molded, with or without his knowledge, into Dumbledores new weapon. He would be used, and then…he would be discarded. Tom Riddle, Voldemort, whatever his name was, would not allow this injustice to continue. He was not a callous murderer, he was not Dumbledore.

The question, how to get the weapon out of the storeroom. The answer…Saint Mungo's.

_Room 143: St. Mungo's_

"I can do it myself, Mrs. Peverell," Harry sighed exasperatedly, "I really don't feel comfortable needing help every time I want to change out of these ridiculous arse-less gowns."

It wasn't her fault really, she had only been trying to help.

'The thing is,' Harry thought, 'every time she helps me I feel more helpless. I'm blind, not invalid.'

Harry had been in the hospital for a grand total of ten days. The first four days (all of which he had been unconscious for) had not been all that bad. Two more days had passed with relative ease, the pain potions he was on causing him to sleep more than usual. After those days, however, he had begun to loose patience.

The last four days had been misery. Every healer, every nurse, ever bloody candy striper asked him how he was **feeling.**

If there was one thing no one wants to be asked while laid up in bed, thereby leaving it impossible to escape, it's "How do you feel?"

'Bollocks, how the hell do they think I feel. I'm tired, I'm in near constant pain, this room reeks of sanitation, I can hardly move, and everyone's talking about me. Oh, and did I forget to mention that my aunt abused me and made me blind? How silly of me!'

Back on topic, Healer Peverell made him feel…helpless. She had been an enormous help in the beginning of course. She made him feel secure and safe, but this…this…smothering was really beginning to grate on his very last, practically non-existent, nerve.

It was time to make a break for it.

The question was how to get out of his cage? Like an animal whose had been locked up, he could feel the anger in him building. He wanted away from the people who had manipulated him all of his life. Dumbledore, being chief of the manipulators, was obviously going to be the hardest to get past.

After several days of living in darkness, being unable to even attempt to open his eyes due to scar tissue, he had begun to **see** things. It was definitely hard to explain but somehow he had learned to sense certain things around him. He supposed what he was sensing was magic, the colors representing the intentions behind the spells.

A little known fact was that no magic could be done unless there was an emotion behind it. Even in school, the determination to not fail drove their spells into existence. In Neville's case, his emotions were so easily influenced that his spell were influenced by more than one emotion. This caused the spell to not have a specific "job", thus weakening it and making it seem as though Neville was weak.

On the contrary, if Neville could learn control he would become one of the most powerful wizards alive.

Being blind gives a person a lot of time to think.

The point is he could see the colors in the room around him. Healer Peverell's robes had a soft red enveloping them. The robes had a mediocre heating charm on them. The emotion behind the charm was protection.

The potion cabinet in the corner had a dull gray tint. This meant there was a locking charm on them; again, the emotion behind the charm was protection.

Lastly, the doorframe was eerily blood red with black veins circulating through. That meant a combination of spells, in this case three. Normally, a spell would envelope an object. However, when two spells were cast this causes a mix of colors, symbolizing the mixture of spells. When three spells were combined, the mixture becomes diluted; one color becoming dominant and the others become thin and stem-like.

The spells on the door were a dangerous mix. One was an entering ward. The ward allowed only a select few to enter and leave. Harry could tell he was not among those who were set to leave.

One was a monitoring charm. The charm acted a bit like muggle security cameras, recording everything that went on the room. This was generally considered an invasion of privacy unless the person being monitored had a psychiatric problem. Seeing as he was being treated for an injury and had shown no signs of madness or depression…

The last charm, and dominant color, was a memory charm. It's reason was not apparent. There were too many types of memory charm for it to be identified or it's purpose guessed.

The emotion behind the spells was hate. The person who had cast the spells was Albus Dumbledore.

Clearly, it was time to leave.

"Healer Peverell, I actually could use your help with something. It's rather important and I wouldn't ask except I fear something dreadful may happen to me if I remain here much longer.

First, I need to know something. Just whose side are you on?" he turned, awaiting her answer with open eyes.

These past few day of darkness had led him to realize that Dumbledore's path was not one of lightness. If she said light, he would ask for a portion of Sleeping Draught. If she answered dark, his answer would be much the same. But if she chose a different path, if she choose the path that was finally becoming clear to him, then he would ask for her help with something much more important.

He would ask for her allegiance.

A/N The long awaited chapter! Cliffhanger! I know, I am a bitch. To me, this cliffhanger does not seem very suspenseful, the answer is pretty obvious. I hope you guys liked it and I am truly sorry it took so long to get here. I abandoned it for a while and put it off when I didn't get much feedback from the last chapter but it' finally done! I hope to hear some positive things but I would not be surprised to get some flames.

p.s. if you have not read "The Marriage Stone", I highly recommend it. I was amazed and enthralled.

Josephine Darcy, the author, is pretty much who you have to thank for me finally finishing this chapter.


	7. My New Home

A/N I'm going to apologize for the last chapter

A/N I'm going to apologize for the last chapter. I know it was not the greatest; it didn't have the emotion of the other chapters. However, I needed to get the story moving. I believe I have done that, however, there have been some questions and question-like comments.

Has this story been abandoned? This story has NOT been abandoned. It always takes me a while once the writer's block hits but if a story is abandoned I will put a note on it.

How will Harry and (presumably) Healer Peverell, leave Saint Mungo's? Well, you shall soon see! Read on, I don't feel like giving it away in a little note.

How does Harry know what the colors of the spells mean? This is actually a very good question. I didn't go into detail (and I'm sorry I didn't) because a) I really wanted to get the chapter out so I only read over it once and b) I can see the answer in my head. What you have to realize is that Harry has always been very magically aware. We are lead to believe that even when he was small, he cried when Voldemort came to kill his parents. This brings me to the conclusion that Harry has always been more **aware** than some. Next, many of us have learned that when a person looses a sense, in this case sight, they compensate with the enhancement of another sense, many times sense of sound. With Harry, it made much more sense to me that his magic would help him compensate and give him a sense of pseudo-sight. Hence the "seeing" colors. Now that the background is out of the way, I'll move on to the actual question. Harry has been alone in one room for approximately two and a half weeks. He was only unable to walk for a short time and has since begun to explore. He noticed things about the room, tingles I suppose you could say. He was curious, so he set his brain to work. It would not take long to see that locked doors had a different color than unlocked ones. In addition, Harry has learned a bit about "sense magic" in school. It is not completely unfamiliar territory. Is that a good explanation?

Yes, Dumbledore is a bit evil in this story. I thought about going in a billion different directions but I think this is one of the most probable clichés out there. Plus, my Dumbles may be a bit different. wink

WOOOOOOHOOOOOO 10,000 hits!! I would love to respond to every reviewer (as I originally planned) but by the time I do that I don't feel like writing the chapter anymore. I love you reviewers! Thank you very much for your imput

I own nothing. This will probably be an un-beta'd chapter. This chapter is quite a bit longer as I was feeling particularly guilty about not updating for so long.

_Last time:_

"Healer Peverell, I actually could use your help with something. It's rather important and I wouldn't ask except I fear something dreadful may happen to me if I remain here much longer.

First, I need to know something. Just whose side are you on?" he turned, awaiting her answer with open eyes.

These past few day of darkness had led him to realize that Dumbledore's path was not one of lightness. If she said light, he would ask for a portion of Sleeping Draught. If she answered dark, his answer would be much the same. But if she chose a different path, if she choose the path that was finally becoming clear to him, then he would ask for her help with something much more important.

He would ask for her allegiance.

_This time…_

Looking after Harry Potter is definitely a full time job. I've only been his caretaker in St. Mungo's for about a week and a half and yet I find myself constantly worried about him.

Seeing the scars on his body and hearing the pain in his voice, is it any wonder that I feel for him? He looks so fragile but through that fragility, I can see a strong, young man.

I know he cannot stand to lie in that bed all day. Madam Pomphrey told me just yesterday that he has been in her infirmary more times then she would care to count. I was told to speak of Harry's condition to no one but I will not let Dumbledore, of all people, order me around. If I were the one to care for Harry for all his school year and I was not the first to be told he was hurt…well, my hospital issued heels would be very far up someone's arse.

"So, Healer Peverell, whose side are you on?" intoned Harry's voice. A silly question if I ever heard one. Then again, the poor man's life had always been about sides. War. Him against the World.

Never again.

"I'm on the side of the innocent Harry. I guess that means I am not on Voldemort or Dumbledoor's side. I'm on yours."

Such a silly boy, how could he ever believe that I would go against him. After all, it wasn't too long ago that I was Lilly's best friend.

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

The owl tapping on the window in an irritating pattern was the first thing I was aware of as I opened my eyes. The second was the pain that accompanied a night of full moon "fun". My entire body ached as I got out of bed and hobbled to the window. The owl was of the most common color, brown. The letter, however, was what drEw my attention. Light blue, a color I had not received since the official notice of Sirius' death.

Shit.

My hands trembled as I began to undo the letter from the owl. It gave me a sympathetic look. I guess it must have understood what emotions a simple color could evoke.

_Mr. Remus Lupin_

_Unkown Location_

_London England_

As of yet there was no indication as to who the letter was sent by. There were really only three possibilities because of who I am and who I know. The first is the ministry; they always seem to be the bearers of bad news. The third, and slightly scarier possibility, was Dumbledoor. The third, and even more terrifying, possibility was St. Mungos.

It was door number three. Really, could this day get any worse? Reading the first few line of the letter, I wondered why I had to jinx myself.

Harry was in the hospital and had lost his sight. I guess I must be in a bit of shock because my body has gone numb, there is water pouring down my face, and the letter (along with my body) has fallen to the floor.

It appears as though "the light side" failed my cub, yet again. What else is new? Every year Harry gets into anew mess and we say we are going to help him but all that ends up happening is Harry saving himself.

I guess he could not save himself this time.

Blind. The magical world had a cure for many afflictions, but blindness…it just wasn't one of them. If the blindness had been cause by an illness or just by a genetic defect it could have been fixed. However, my cub's blindness came from something more formidable then any disease, it came from hate.

Someone needs to pay. There has to be some way to fix this, there has to be some way for me to help him. My poor Harry, so lost and alone, I can't let him end up like me.

At this moment, I can see the truth that has been sneaking up on me for the last sixteen years.

It's time to get away from Dumbledoor (Don't worry, I'll take care of everything) and make a new alliance.

An alliance that will right all of Dumbledoors' wrongs and even all of mine, an alliance with the most powerful person in the wizarding world.

Saying in your head that you are going to break out of a hospital and doing it are two very different things. It has been two days since I started seriously planning my escape, two days since Healer Peverell's alliance was determined, and I am still sitting in this uncomfortable hospital bed!

The upside of things is that I have finally developed a plan. The best part of this plan is that I don't have to break myself out (let's be honest, that would never work), I'm going to have a bloodsucking demon do it for me.

My lawyer, Dallas Kilian, has decided that he is going to do me a very large favor and get me out of here. Finally, someone is on my side of things about getting out of here. I'm sure the promise of being allowed to take my case had **nothing** to do with his offer to bust me out.

The wicked grin on my face is abruptly wiped off my face as Healer Peverell enters. If there is one thing I'm actually going to miss about this white, sterile prison, it's that woman.

She's just been so bloody…nice. It's hard to explain but there is just something about her that makes me feel safe and wanted. Even though I can't see, I always know when she is close. It's more than the colors that surround her, it's all the little things she does. Knocking on my door even though she doesn't have to, making sure her footsteps are loud enough so that I can hear what she is doing, talking to me like I'm **normal**.

I guess that's the root of things really. She treats me like I'm normal. All my life I've been "boy" to my family and "the boy" to the wizarding world, but Healer Peverell doesn't treat me like a boy. She treats me like a man.

There's nothing I can ever do to make her understand how much that means to me. If there's one thing I'm going to miss when all this is over it will be her, but then again…who says I can't take her with me?

_Somewhere Mysterious_

"Pettigrew, you idiot! You sill haven't found a way into that damn hospital? You told me you would have a plan in two days and it has been four! Crucio!" I raged.

I admit it, when someone doesn't live up to what I expect; I get a little…angry. Of course, by "a little angry" I mean I need a spot of torture and a good screaming fit before I am fit to walk among society again.

Suddenly, a squeak of a voice interrupts my thoughts, "M-m-my Lord, i-i-i-it seems t-that H-Harry P-P-Potter is no longer in t-the h-hospital," the little worm snivels.

"WHAT?! WHERE THE HELL IS HE THEN?! DID HE JUST GET UP AND WALK OUT, WHY DID YOU NOT CAPTURE HIM AND BRING HIM HERE?!" I roared.

Why is it so hard to find good hench-men these days? Pettigrew is fit more for Gardner than an agent of evil. I mean, honetly, Bellatrix is as insane as they come, Lucius is a power hungry sod, Crabbe and Goyle are so imbecilic that they can't tie their own shoes, and Severus is a double spy-who I can't even trust with the smallest amount of information or tasks.

I guess the old saying is true, if you want something done right…you just have to do it yourself.

_First Bank of London, South Bank Centre_

"Harry, it's not that I don't understand you leaving, but how did you get out, why take me, and where are we going?" Healer Peverell intoned calmly. It seemed that South Bank Centre is about as different to her part of London as Hogwarts is to my Cupboard under the stairs.

Her questions were clever so I felt no harm in answering them.

"We, Ms. Peverell, are in London's cultural hotbed simply named South Bank Centre. We are going to my flat in the Wizarding section of the city known as South Bank Centre W where I am sure you will help me recuperate to my highest level of health. I took you because I like you and I think there is more to you than you let on. Lastly, you must remember Dallas, my lawyer? He developed a wonderful plan in which he planted a Gollum in my bed while I was in the bathroom (the only place without monitoring spells) and then he apparated me out. He went back for you of course, and now we are here." I explained gently but matter-a-factly.

"Oh" she sighed.

"Indeed," I went on, "Now why don't we get to my flat and we can have a wonderful cup of tea and some biscuits." I prodded.

"Harry, that sounds lovely. When did you get a flat? Is it paid for monthly or do you own it? I don't mean to pry but I never expected you o be a planner…"her words rushed out quickly.

"No need to clarify, you are operating under what others have told you, I guess it all stated about two years ago. It really began before then but I started taking action the summer before my fifth year.

I had suspected Dumbledoor of being a fool since the day he sent the first Hogwarts letter to the Dursley's. The Dursleys themselves look nothing like me, speak nothing of my parents except lies of what drunks they were, and they always treated me sub-humanly. At the time I wondered how family could treat family that way. They treated their son like a king, how was I any different? I began to suspect foul play in the form of puppets and plants. I know now, from what I learned before Hogwarts, that "my family" are really just low magic squibs who harbor a grudge against anyone better than them. I also know that Dumbledoor paid them a sum of 1000 pounds a month for my care, or lack thereof, from my own back accounts.

Needless to say, they did not use the money to care for me. Their precious son was given most of my money in the form of toys and an enormous amount of food, all of which he rubbed in my face. The Dursleys always told me that I was an ungrateful brat and they didn't get anything to take me in. For a long time I believed them, but then I wondered why they never let me check the mail.

Anyway, that's another story, the summer before fifth year I asked Gringotts to make me withdrawls of 100 pounds every month and deposit them into a secret account for approximately 2 years. Once I had enough money I bought a large building in South Bank and had it converted into an apartment complex. I always keep the penthouse on the top floor for myself for when I could finally escape from the Dusleys. This allows me to collect income and maintain a home at the same time.

Since then, I have stopped the monthly withdrawls from my accounts and begun to make deposits into my secret account. Every month I put about 12,000 pounds in. During the summer I usually put in a bit more because I get a job. I'm not sure what I'll do now that I've lost my sight, probably get into more realestate, and maybe open my own wizarding hotel." I explained calmly.

Healer Peverell seemed a bit stunned that I **had** planned for my future so well. Does everyone really think I am incapable of planning? I mean, I'm the tool for defeating war but I can't come up with a simple plan?

As we walked up to the front of my building, I could feel eyes following me. I can't say I'm surprised, I've always felt the eyes. At least here I know it is not just because I'm The Golden Boy, I have real friends here.

Alphard, the door attendant greeted me at the door and politely inquired about my guest. I have always had a fondness for Alphard; you will never meet a more polite 17 year old. I chatted momentarily and then led my new alliance to the elevator. As we waited, I noticed her air of astonishment. I suppose I have done quite well for myself. I suppose it is a good thing I have, being blind and all. I guess being an Auror is out, but having thought about it lately, I wasn't built for the job.

What? The Golden Boy isn't fit to be an Auror? When you think about it, my stealth was practically non-existent which is why I needed dad's cloak. I'm too famous to not be noticed, I'm too small to offer physical strength, my spells are all too powerful to go unnoticed, and the list goes on.

My façade is falling away to reveal who I truly am. I feel like I'm constantly being watched, I must always keep up the "boy wonder" image. In some ways, becoming blind is a blessing. No one will notice my strange behavior as anything other than grief and adjusting to my new lifestyle.

A flash of gold across his permanently darkened vision broke him out his thoughts.

BAM!

"Hello Charlie, it's wonderful to see you again…well not **see** you perse, but do you think you could stop stangling me?" I gasped out happily.

Charlie Wesley has secretely been living in my building for nine months, paying rent of course. His family stil thinks he is in Romania on The Dragon Reserve. He left after a rather bad burn convinced him he wanted to do more with his life than help creatures who hated him. He now makes a respectable living as a potions ingredients hunter, finding and collecting some of the rarer and more interesting things for mysterious buyers.

We stepped into the elevator, all three of us, and pushed the buttons 2 and 3.

"Sorry Harry, are you alright? I haven't seen you in months and there have been some Order members spreading some…interesting rumors. Did your aunt really…I know its not really any of my business…"Charlie rambled, clearly he was embarrassed and a little flustered to see that at least **one** of the rumores was true.

"Charlie, slow down! I'm fine, my aunt…she's going to pay for what she's done to me. I want to talk to you later about some job ideas I have if you've got the time. I'm thinking about a **change in careers**…maybe **starting my own business.**

Charlie wasn't as mindless as Ron so I'm hoping my code words got through to him. Based on the flash of gold around him I believe he has. If there's one peson who knows about going against everything your family believes in its Charlie. After all, he is the first Wesley spy in 1,000 years.

DING!

"We will talk later Harry, I promise!" Charile called while exiting.

Silence decended upon the elevator as the doors closed and Healer Peverell and I were left along. She glanced at me warmly and her eyes held a bit of a twinkle at seeing Charlie caring for me.

DING!

"Come along Ms. Peverell… we have much to discuss. I believe we need to have a chat about what you are willing to offer my side of the war." I said casally, gesturing for her to follow me down the hallway to her new life.

A/N: Finally, the next chapter is out! I hope you guys like it cause it was a struggle for me to put out more than 1,000 words more than I usually do. I hope to get some feedback and I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little to informational but the background needs to be strong for the story to make sense in the coming chapters. In the next chapter, harry will have his first real connection to Voldemort! Stay tuned!


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